


Second Time's a Charm

by solar_celeste



Series: DNA [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Birth of Red Hood, Brotherly Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd is Alive, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd-centric, Jason-Centric, Lazarus Pit, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post Pit, Resurrected Jason Todd, after effects, back from the dead, this explains the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-01-04 23:39:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18354101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solar_celeste/pseuds/solar_celeste
Summary: Jason left, now he must return.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't have the energy to proof read this.

It’s funny how all of the little things can be taken for granted so easily. Theres a saying that those who don’t have much appreciate things more, but that isn’t always true. There are certain things like books, a shared conversation, a good nights sleep, even getting to watch the sun come up and sink into the horizon each day. Things like that, things most associate with being human and living day to day only to allow themselves to miss the beauty and the privilege of such blessings. Sure, there are the material things: the trending clothing,the latest model of phone, those new wireless earbuds everyone’s been raving about, but that isn’t what matters the most, is it?

 

Maybe in the light of day it seems so, when the golden rays of the sun seem to sooth all fears and give even the ugliest of things an undeniable beauty. But moonlight, sheds a different reality. The silver glow brings out all faults and fears, it allows demons to hide in the darkness, clowns with crowbars crouched in abandoned warehouses, gunmen guarding alleys. Its tapered light shined on children crying for lost parents bleeding from bullets, others for ones that will arrive too late, singing along to a symphony of metal on bone. Moonlight has never protected anyone, not in the end.

 

Moonlight betrayed Jason. He had thought the man in the orb to be his friend. Night had been his shelter during his time on the streets and the time he thrived when he had later acquired a home. They say the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Jason despised the sunlight, and with the sun and the moon being to opposite they ever share the same sky, he had assumed a truce. He had been naive.

 

Instead, the glistening lights had worked together, the sun giving him a false hope, the moon a sense of the security he had fallen to rely on. He had followed it, trusted it into a warehouse at a time his hopes had been to high to be logical. The sun had been a coward, joining the victory party before the battle was over. The moon allowed crowbar wielding clown into a warehouse.

 

The moon had killed Jason.

 

Thats what he liked to think anyway, it was much better than saying his teenage idiocy had killed him, or that he had been bloodied by a bastard clown. That while falling down the road of death, he had been calling for the mother who had given him the map and a man of empty promises he had once, nearly called dad.

 

Of course the conversation didn’t come up much, there weren’t many people who knew about his death, or his return. One or two, perhaps a handful, and even those had been short coming. There had been few he had wanted to tell.

 

Coming back had been nothing short of of when he had been murdered. The pain was the same, physically, but oh so worse mentally.Leaving, he had known Bruce wasn’t coming, he had known his mom had tricked him, he had known he was dying. But coming back? He didn’t even know who he was.

 

He had been so confused, passed like an item from one servant to another. He remembered Talias disapproving glares, her snide remarks, how she tried to hide him from her father and yet didn’t seem to care at all. But that was it, the end of his clear memories. No more scenes of the Leagues compound, even though he almost wished there were more. That would be easier to shake than the emotional trauma and fear of not knowing what had really happens when he being reborn.

 

Or at least, he had always assumed that the pain was from being reborn. It had sure felt like he had died, even if Talia seemed to shy away from answering any time he mustered the courage to ask.

 

His first clear memory, the first that had finally seemed like something real, and not that of a dream, had him standing on a Gotham pier.

 

He hadn’t known how he had gotten there, wby he was there, or where he had been before. He knew where he was, his mental map slowly piecing itself together as he wandered further into Gotham. There was nothing with him but the clothes on his back.

 

Memories came back slowly, people, of whom he was both close to and distant from, speckled his memory as he walked to an unknown destination. Times laughing on rooftops, with a man in a black and blue.... wetsuit? Seemed the most common, but sometimes he would see another boy, around his own age, sitting on a couch and cracking jokes to him as they battled each other on the video game console.

 

He supposed these ‘memories’, if you would, were what led him to the apartment building he found himself outside of. There wasn’t much security, the front door came open easily, and he allowed his (hopefully reliable) muscle memory to take him where he was needed. The halls were dingy, the wallpaper peeled back in corner and at edges but the floor was free of litter and the ceiling of holes. Jason knew of his time on the streets, he had bits and pieces after all, and if anything he _liked_ the rundown look. It made him feel less out of place.

 

Six flights later and not as much physical activity as he felt he needed, he stood in front of a door. It matched all the others, same warped wood, same tarnished numbers, what was so special about this one? Had this been his apartment? He hadn’t though he had ever owned his own place, but there were a lot of things he didn’t remember. He placed his hand on the knob and turned.

 

No luck, the door had been locked from the inside, dead bolted twice if the owner was a true Gothamite. Not his home then. Was it the other teens? Was this where he had played video games and laughed like he wasn’t going to die young, without knowing that one of the only people he had finally allowed himself to love was going to betray him?

 

Knocking was easier said than done. Besides the confusion and little control he seems to have over his actions, Jason’s heart was thumping, beating rapidly in his chest as he waiting for _whoever_ to open the door.

 

Perhaps no one was home?

 

He was close to turning and leaving for another lonely night on the streets when the sound of _way more_ than just two deadbolts being unlocked echoed through the door. He froze.

 

He waited, back to the door and more than half expecting a bullet through the chest or a crow bar to the back of the head. He hadn’t expected anyone to _talk._

 

“ Can I help you?” The voice was young and male and everything Jason wanted to hear. He was even more so convinced now, that this man had once been his friend. He swallowed the nervous bile threatening to escape his throat and slowly forced himself around.

 

Wide, blue eyes stared into green before flickering up and down, settling on the two toned hair before moving back to Jason’s face.

 

“ J-Jay?” The man asked, pushing the door open further as his jaw slacked and eyebrows rose in disbelief. “ Is that you Little Wing?”

 

The nickname washed over Jason like a refreshing wave of holy water. Memories and names surprised by Talia and the waters of the pits flooded his mind. Times spent, more than just on rooftops, with the man in front of him. Looking up to the boy when Jason has only been a _kid,_ the original Robin, the fav-

 

“ Dick?” Jason asked, voice thick and gravely from disuse.

 

“ W-wha… y-your… alive?” The man, supposedly Dick, seemed flabbergasted and for the first time since waking up, Jason’s suspicion of his death was confirmed. He feels like the realization should scare him, terrify him even, but instead, he feels an almost calm wash over him. After all these months of being a pawn, it feels beyond refreshing to finally _know_ something.

 

“ Talia’s Pit.” He says instead, because he’s still trying to re rap his tongue around speaking again and short answers are easier for his broken mind.

 

Dick bright blue eyes drain of confusion, turning to first shock and then a look not far from sympathetic. Jason doesn’t want sympathy. He doesn’t need Dick feeling bad for him, he needs this man to help him remember the last seventeen years of his life.

 

“ Y- you grew up, little wing.” The addition of the nickname brings years flooding back. There still isn’t much detail, just scene after scene of him and the man in front of him sprawled over training mats, huddled in front of a movie, making a mess of a culinary kitchen and acting so much like brothers it he’d go believe they hadn’t always been that close.

 

“ Yeah..... we-ll, it’s been a-while.” Stumbles Jason, taking his time to carefully pronounce each word but smirking all the same. It’s the first real joy he’s had since before the warehouse, it’s not a smile, not even close really but inside he’s so giddy he feels the need to pinch himself from his dreamworld, because there is no way this is all real.

 

“ I-it’s really you?” Dick asks, all uncertainty and suspicion detectable in his voice. Jason’s heart sinks. He had _known_ it was too good to be true, all of this. Gaining trust wasn’t going to be easy, but now he was starting to doubt f it would possible at _all._

 

“ I’ll leave.... if you don’t trust.” Words are coming a little easier now, but putting them from thoughts actions is still kind of difficult. He hopes Dick knows what he means. He doesn’t want to be a bother, even if walking away will beyond disappoint him.

 

He takes Dicks silence as his answer, sighing, and turning to retreat. He nearly makes it to the stairs when he’s stopped again.

 

“ Jay, wait!” Jason pauses, hand resting on the railing. He doesn’t turn around though instead opting instead, to wait for something more.

 

“ Do you- do you want to come in?” Because of course Dick-all too trusting- Grayson invites a supposed to be dead man into his apartment.

 

But really, is Jason in the position to judge? Not in the slightest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been bed ridden with God knows what for nearly a week, so here's ANOTHER update while I waste away from boredom.

Judging by the hallway, Jason was expected the apartment to be just as run down and moldy as the rest of the place had proven to be. Instead, stepping through the doorway seemed to have similar effect to stepping through the wardrobe into Narnia.

 

The place was modern, white and light blue walls, gray late flooring, like a polished concrete. Carpets added comfort in the living area were a black sectional sat in front of a flat screen Tv. The kitchen had been recently redone and even the light fixtures were new. the only thing semi-old, and Jason suspected this was to keep the act up from the external view, were the same beat up windows that had carried throughout the building. The only thing about Dicks, they were each secured by large coded, industrial locks.

 

“ I got the whole place redesigned a year ago after Kori tried to make dinner.” Dick explained, leading them over to the couch. Jason nodded, that explained why the apartment didn’t seem to be triggering any memories. But who the hell was Kori?

 

Dick lead him into the room and motioned for him to take a seat on the sectional, Jason complied, struggling to settle himself in a natural position.

 

The tension in the air could have been cut with a knife as the two sat there, each member of the pair staring at the other like they were about to ignite. Although, with all that had happened recently, Jason wasn’t too sure he would bat an eye if Dick DID burst into flames.

 

“ You, ah- want anything to drink?” Dick asked, getting up from his perch on the edge of a cushion and heading to the kitchen on the other side of the open room.

 

“ Yeah.” Jason scoffed. “ A beer.”

 

“ You weren’t gone for THAT long, little wing.” Dick responds, grabbing Jason and himself each a bottle of water. The flow they keep catching themselves falling into is no effortlessly natural it almost scares Jason. What is so special about Dick? Why aren’t his other memories coming back? It’s taken them long enough hasn’t it?

 

That though sparks another question in Jason. He suddenly realizes that he has no idea how long he’s been gone. Dead, alive, a brainless vegetable. He wants to know how much of HIS life that fucking clown took from him.

 

He figures Dick will know, he can feel he was once close with the man, and surely SOMEONE must have cared about him enough to keep track of the months. He allows a beat of silence to pass before asking.

 

“ How long WAS I gone, then?” Dick’s back now, and handing out the water. The question seems to age the older boy a life time in a matter of seconds as he rubbed a calloused hand over his face.

 

“ Four years Jay, you were missing for four years.” Dick nearly whispers, sitting rather harshly on the couch, as if he has the weight of the world resting upon his shoulders. Jason wouldn’t bet that what he is carrying is much lighter.

 

“ How long was I dead?” He asks again, because now that he’s finding things out, things that he should already know, he’s starting to really understand the concept, knowledge is power. Suddenly, he NEEDS to know all about himself, he feels like if he can’t get every last memory back he’ll suffocate.

 

“ I don’t know.” The elder admits. Dick DOESN”T know, and if Dick doesn’t know, the man thats supposed to have all the answers, then who does? He surely won’t be able to ask Talia any time soon.

 

“ Oh.” Jason sighs, because oh, that’s not an acceptable answer? Because oh, that fucking sucks? Oh, because he should have known things weren’t going to be as easy as he had hoped them to be. Oh, because this whole mess is just one big nightmare he won’t ever wake up from.

 

“ What can you tell me, Jay? Dick says, his eyes are sighing with grief. It’s not sympathy like most people offer, its like Dick is grieving with him, and that almost hurts MORE. It makes Jason sick. He figures theres no reason to make Dick hold that look, when his eyes could be so much bluer if it wasn’t for all that sadness clouding them.

 

“ Not much.” He sighs. “ There are certain things I can remember, and I don’t like any of what I do. I don’t remember anyone, names and details are hard.”

 

“ You remembered me though?” Dick asks, his voice sounds happier, and Jason realizes he feels honored that this worthless waste of oxygen keeping him up at two in the morning considers him valuable enough to remember.

 

“ I did, didn’t I?” Jason smirks, eyes downcast at the hands gripping his chilled water bottle.

 

“ Why?”

 

“ I don’t know.” Jason spits dryly and suddenly, his blood begins to boil and he starts filling with green rage. “ I don’t know what happened, I don’t know how I’m alive or how I’m in Gotham or how the fuck I remembered you or how to get to your apartment. I don’t fucking know anything about me!” He screaming now, and must have stood sometime throughout his yelling because he’s on his feet now, tattered boots shaking on his feet.

 

At first he thought it was the anger, the burning fury that some deranged green haired freak playing dress up could take everything away from him.

 

And God, when did he get so tired? He feels like he hasn’t slept since he rose from the grave and all he wants jump into bed and never wake up. He collapses on the couch instead.

 

“ I-I don’t fucking know.” he gasps into his hand, trying SO hard to fight the onslaught on inevitable tears. “ Dick I don’t know!” He sobs.

 

And Dicks there, he’s TOUCHING Jason. The first real touch he’s had in God knows how longs and Jason feels like he’s doing everything but melting into the contact. Listening to the sweet words being mumbled into his ear.

 

 

_~ “ It’s okay Jay, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Jason shudders, curling into the older boy, and pulling the already firm arms tighter around him._

 

_“ I did! He said I did!” He screams, burying his head into blue and black fabric._

 

_“ He was just scared.” The voice reassures.“ He doesn’t want us hurt. You did good, little wing.” Jason chokes on another muffled sob as he feels a calloused hand run through his hair for the umpteenth time that night.“ You did GREAT.” ~_

 

 

***

 

 

By the time Jason wakes up there’s sunlight streaming in through the parted curtains. Dicks a tangled heap of lumps passed out on his lower half and he has to struggle to extract himself. The hallway seems less daunting during the day as more light sleeps through a hole in ceiling, Jason smiles, of course Dick wild turn that into a skylight instead of just getting it fixed like a normal person.

 

The hallway is a dead end, with a total of five doors. There are two on each side and one at the end of the hall, and while Jason feels he should be well versed on what’s behind those doors, the information is buried along with his past life.

 

He starts exploring, looking through each door as he makes his way further down the hall. The first door leads to a bathroom, which he uses to freshen up, but the design is standard and doesn’t trigger any memories. The second door is a bedroom, the master so it seems and he immodestly assumes it’s Dicks. If the man himself weren’t sleeping a mere twenty feet away perhaps he would check it out a little more. As it is, he’s treading on thin ice so he moves one.

 

The third room feels different.

 

He can tell that as soon as he’s standing outside of the room. The handle is too clean, but much more worn than the others. It hadn’t been replaced during the remodel. All the other handles are a matte silver lever, this one is a tarnished brass knob.

 

He enters.

 

The door hadn’t been locked like he found himself suspecting but as he enters, he builds his walls and braces himself for a possible threat. This proves to be a waste of time, as soon as he enters his barriers crumble. The room is so _familiar._

 

 

~ _“ You made me my own room?” Jason asked incredulously, itching to explore but too stunned to move._

 

 _“ Beats sleeping on the couch all the time, right?” The other occupants of the room asks, he isn’t payed much mind. Instead, Jason nods absentmindedly and goes to stroke one of the ceiling high oak bookshelves. Who would spend this much time and money on_ him _?_

 

_“ You know your never going to be able to get rid of me now.” He smiles, he expects to hear a groan, or perhaps have the room taken back._

 

_“ That’s kinda the point, little wing.” Is what he receives instead. ~_

 

 

“ No one touched it, I wouldn’t let anyone.” Dicks behind him, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as Jason strokes a floor to ceiling oak bookshelf. Jason nods.

 

“ Not even Roy.” Dicks chuckles, he’s trying to cover his sigh with an attempt at a laugh but Jason can see right through it.

 

“ Was he....?”

 

“ You’re best friend, Jay.” Dick says, eyes looking up and filled with a mix of emotions.

 

“ Video game guy.” Jason says in realization.

 

“ Heh, yeah. You guys used to come here all the time because Br-... because I had the best snacks.” Dick laughs, shaking his head as he brushes a layer of dust from the desk.

 

“ Can I see him?” Jason asks, setting the book back onto the shelf with its brothers and sisters. Dick fetching his phone before the words even finish leaving Jason’s mouth.

 

“ I think he would love that.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whats this? An update? 
> 
> And now you gotta go re-read the story because everyone forgot what it was about.

Dick Grayson had become a lot closer to Roy Harper in the last handful of years. Of course they had been close before, that what happens when you know someone since you were kids, both secret and civilian identities. But there’s something about losing your best friend and little brother that builds a bond between two people unlike any other. They weren’t as close as Jason and Roy, no- that was something that only came once in a lifetime, but they were close though. Pizza night close, cake on Jasons birthday close. Their job was to make sure the second Robin was never forgotten.

 

Thats why Roy was completely unsuspecting when he answered a call from Dick at seven in the morning. Even if he was a _little_ pissed his sleep had been interrupted. 

 

“ Dick? What is it?”

 

“ Morning to you too princess. I think I have something you might be interested in.” Said Dick, leaning casually on the doorframe as Jason watched with a growing smirk.

 

“ This sounds suspiciously like a drug deal, Dick.” Laughed Roy, the shuffling of what sounded like clothes in the background.

 

“ We’re talking _way_ better than drugs here, Roy.” Dick had an ear to ear grin on his face now.

 

“ Better than drugs? I could hand you a lollipop and you would be happy, but there’s only one thing that I…. _Dick_?” The hesitation and absolute disbelief in Roy’s voice made Dick crack out in a large, toothy smile.

 

“ Yeah Roy, just get your ass over here.” He laughed.

 

“ Wait Dick, actu-“ Dick just shook his head in silent laughter, sliding the phone from his ear and ending the call.

 

“ That was rude.” Comments Jason, smile still showing his Lazarus perfect row of teeth.

 

“ It’s called keeping the mood, Jay. Now lets get cleaned up before he get here, I give him twenty minutes top.”

 

***

 

Twenty minutes turned out to be fifteen, Roy was a little excited to say the least. Cleaning up felt amazing, the first shower Jason had taken in who knows how long, and some of Dicks larger pieces of clothing.

 

Jason was munching on an apple, towel hanging over his shoulder as he waited for his damp hair to dry when the door banged open.

 

“ Really Roy would it kill you to knock?” Dick sighed exasperated.

 

“ Oh my God.” Roy breathed, eyes wide as he took in every crevice and detail on Jason, the new, the old, everything. Jason did the same back, apple raised halfway to his open mouth.

 

“ Holy shit.” He said in return, while Dick looked on, smiling like a madman.

 

“ Jay?” Spoke Roy, inching forward as if approaching a stray puppy from the streets. In a way it was the same, he guessed. Jason could only nod in response.

 

It wasn’t like resurrection was unheard of in there line of work. There were many things that only existed in fairytales to civilians that they wouldn’t even think to Bat an eye at. But, the only person Roy could immediately think of that he had even heard rumor of coming back to life was Superman, and he was a damn _Kryptonian_ for goodness sake. Jason was just, well he was awesome and Roy truly love him but, he was human. Didn’t that make him a zombie?

 

“ I… wa-? How?” He stuttered, walking closer and reaching out to stab Jason in the shoulder with his index finger. They would have to have a discussion, one where Jason could tell both Dick and Roy a little more about all that he had been through. So that he could tell them exactly how they were sitting in front of him. But instead, because he seemed to be doing this a lot now, he allowed himself a moment of weakness.

 

The next ten minutes found Jason held in Roy’s arms, sobbing into his best friends shoulder. The two were much more grown now, four years later, yet Jason in mind was only a sixteen year old. He hadn’t had the real life experience that Roy had had. He had been held up, first in the land of the dead then second by Talia. He was confused, and he hated it, absolutely hated that he didn’t have any control, that he didn’t even know what the world was like in…. what year was it now?

 

But mostly he hated how many years he had missed, hated how he knew there were people that he couldn’t wait to see yet had so much trouble even remembering their _names_.

 

He hated how there were so many parts of Dick’s apartment that he didn’t remember, all because of that damn renovation, but then there were other parts of the house that resurfaced memories that he didn’t even know he had.

 

The whole situation was unfair, infuriating. He wanted nothing more than march back to Nanda Parbat and skin Talia alive, to pound bullets all throughout her body and watch her experience the same pain that he had. But would that really be fair? Didn’t she bring him _back_ to life? Not that he really knew what all her motives had been but in the simplest form, she was the reason that he was back with Dick and Roy right now.

 

“ Are you okay?” Dick asked, because _of course_ he would. There was no, how did you do it? He wasn’t asking Jason to tell him everything that happened, not that he would, because Dick isn’t like that, but it nearly brought new tears to Jasons eyes.

 

“ I- I will be.” He responded, because that was the only truthful reply he could give.

 

***

 

That night at dinner Jason rediscovered that he could cook. He started with a pot, some gluten and not a clue in the world and ended with pasta topped with sausage and accompanied by a chef side salad. Muscle memory he supposed. Roy started to say something, the mention of a man names Alfred that chimed numerous bells in his head, but Dick had (oh so subtly) elbowed him in the side before Jason could connect the dots.

 

The food was great and Dick reintroduced Jason to ice cream afterwards for dessert. They watched Saturday Night Live then, something comedic and upbeat to lighten the tense and darkening mood staying up until Roy began to doze from his seat on the couch.

 

They separated, Roy taking the spare room while Dick went to the master and Jason was left to explore his old territory. His room was a lot of red, black and white, a decor that even now, a little older and with a fresh mind, he found appealing. The colors were sharp and inviting and he only allowed himself a quick sweep of the room before changing into the pajamas Dick had lent him and settling into bed.

 

That night was also when Jason discovered the nightmares.

 

He should have expected them, he had had them before, but a spotty brain and half active mind should have told him those snippets of horror he had been experiencing weren’t even the beginnings of what his mind could conjure.

 

It was horrible.

 

_The building was dark, hollow laughter echoed off the cold wall of the warehouse. The pounding mix of rain and snow hammered its roof. The roar of blood in Jason’s ears blocked out it all._

_“ It’s a tragedy our little game is coming to an end. I sure hope that Batman of yours gets here in time to see the big finish.”_

_This couldn’t be right, this couldn’t be happening. It had_ already _happened. He had lived through this, he had_ died, _and he had_ come back.

 _“ Or maybe you aren’t worth the big mans time. Maybe, I’m doing him a_ favor.”

_He was dreaming, he had to be, even if the pain seemed so real._

_‘ Wake up, wake up, wake up!’_

_“ Wake up from what little bird? This is reality. A reality where the Bats isn’t coming. Just like he didn’t the first time.” Shrieking laughter stole blood from Jason’s ears._

 

And he startles awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION: Red Hood Fan Series deserves your love. Simply search for them on youtube to begin your addiction. This is not common cosplay, roles are by PROFESSIONAL actors and the AGES MATCH! Season one focuses on Jason Todd, Damian Wayne and Tim Drake. They have season two coming this month (on Friday), season one is available to watch right now! We are trying to connect them to DC! Please assist us by emailing WARNER BROS about them! Thank you!  
>    
> Comments are my coffee :,)


	4. Chapter 4

Jason’s borrowed pajamas are stuck to his skin with sweat. He shaking and breathing hard as he struggles to take in his surroundings. He’s confused, disoriented, and for a moment he thinks he’s still in a dream, that the sight of his old room is just a torturous trick of the mind. It's a moment of absolutely safety that's just too good to be true, quickly replaced by more terror. He can  _ feel _ his skin crawling and aching as it takes hits strong enough to put him within an inch of his life. He swears that the beads of sweat rolling down his temples and chest are droplets of blood.

 

Jason only realises that he’s gripping the sheets as hard as he is when they’re a moment more from tearing. His fingernails ache from the tension and the feeling reminds him of another night full of dirt and crawling insects. He steels himself, mind cleared to a blank slate as all nagging thoughts and memories are pushed away. It’s an unhealthy technique, he knows that, but it works. It won’t last forever though, and he needs to find a distraction before his mind finds another chance to wander. 

 

He untangled the blankets from his legs in a short series of small tugs, swinging his legs over the bed and onto the freezing hardwood floor. Dick’s pajamas are slightly short on him, something he would never have thought possible, and allow the cool air to tickle his ankles as he walks. He doesn’t know where he’s going, just that he’s not leaving the room. The hall is full of renovations and different paint colors that he doesn’t recognize. This room,  _ his  _ room, is all familiarity, there isn’t a crumb out of place. 

 

Or at least… he doesn’t think there is. There are brief memories, flashes that he gets when he goes somewhere familiar or see’s something he’s seen before, it’s almost like an extreme deja vu. He hates it.

 

That said, Jason wants to make sure that he gets all those feelings out together, gone in one big swoop. So he begins searching. At first it's just roaming around the room, like he done earlier that day, then it becomes more, peeking under the bed, roaming the closet, fingering through the many books on the shelf, until he’s kneeling on the floor, elbow deep in his old desk.

 

It;s mostly school papers that he worked too hard on, or poems that he had chalked up in free time, nothing really worth the attention of his second life. He thinks thats what its all going to be, that maybe his younger self just really wasn’t as interesting as his brain had been chalking him up to be, when his fingers enclose over a thick envelope. He pauses, wondering if this is really something that he should be looking into before remembering this is  _ his  _ room, and anything in here is thereby his and only his. He tugs out the envelope, careful not to bend or tear the parcel. It’s a standard nine by twelve manilla envelope, metal clasp for a seel at one end. On the front, written on the front, in giant red marker, are the words: STOP! TOP SECRET. He snickers quietly to himself, little Jason definitely had enough ignorance to go get himself killed. 

He undoes the metal clasp, its sharp pokes doing nothing for his still sore finger tips, and opens the flap. 

 

Peering in he sees nothing but a giant  _ mess. _ There are papers, some crumpled and others crisp, shoved into the fold of cardstock. They jut out at odd angles, folding in the places were they meet the envelopes boundaries. The sight offers him a moment of confusion, he had always been impeccably neat,  _ that  _ he was most definitely sure of. The state of his room upon his return was proof of that enough, since Dick had told him he hadn’t touched it, and he trusted Dick with his life. He shook his head and stored the curiosity away with his other, probably harmful thoughts.

 

Then, he promptly dumbed the envelopes contents onto his lap.

 

The first paper he unfolded was another poem but… this one seemed more personal. There were reflections of his childhood on the streets, something Jason vaguely remembered, and talk of the ‘ _ bird of the nights, hidden from even moonlight _ ’? With not the slightest idea of what that could have meant, he moved on.

 

The next was a letter. On the top, it was addressed to Jason, and signed by Dick at the bottom. He didn’t really read it, just quickly skimmed the jagged font and assumed the reason it was ‘secret’ was because he had been embarrassed he had felt the need to keep it.

 

The third thing he came across was when things really started getting weird. 

 

It was a sketch, a rough one at that. Smeared and shaky pencil lines criss crossed over the page, covered messily with fading colors. It was a suit, with an oversized helmet and gun holsters at the hip. Running his finger over the folds of the old paper, his eyes widened. 

 

_ His eyes stung with tears as he sat underneath the desk. He was thirteen years old, and had just emerged from another screaming match. The desk chair was pulled in front of the designated opening, with a soft blanket draped over the wood to provide some privacy. Resting on Jason’s curled legs was a pad of paper, multiple pencils-some colored, some graphite- threatened to snap in his grip. He drew with haste, scribbling quickly as he hurried to wipe falling tears from his cheeks and stifle his sobs. He should have grabbed a phone, or even a communicator, anything to call Dick. He knew the older kid didn’t really love him, kinda hated him actually, he  _ had _ replaced him after all, but Jason needed to get out of this house. He had just got yelled out he only had moments before the punishment came. He had known this was too good to be true! He had known he should have left. Jason knew Bruce wasn’t his father, but that didn’t seem to mean anything anymore. He didn’t even know why he was bothering with this design, Dick wasn’t in the market for a partner anyway…. _

 

Jason tensed. That scene, that deja vu moment had brought so much  _ confusion _ . Who was Bruce? The name sounded familiar, and for some reason he was able to bring a face to mind but his memories…. once again, they are leaving him in the dark. He should _ know _ what Dcik wouldn’t haven’t wanted a partner for, and he should remember what the argument was about and what the intended use for that suit was. 

  
But he didn’t.

 

For some reason the Lazarus in his blood and mind wasn’t allowing him to. Maybe he didn’t want to, maybe there was something so horrific about those memories that he was locking them in a box and shoving it away. He thought he had read something like that once, that the human mind deal with trauma in many odd ways, sometimes choosing to forget the experience all together. 

  
Jason doesn’t like that, doesn’t fancy not knowing. Its  _ infuriating  _ in a way few things have ever been, and he is so  _ done  _ with being left in the dark, so fed up with being confused by his own thoughts. Maybe this drawing… maybe it has more secrets than just what it shows. It wasn’t a bad design either… the red and back were a nice combination and perhaps if he added some armor underneath it would provided suitable protection against the harsh Gotham nights…. It would allow him to search for his memories, for keystones to his past. Yes, that is  _ exactly  _ what he would do. And once he had finished, he already knew the first place he wanted to visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, 
> 
> Go support Red Hood Fan Series, for more Batbros, on You Tube: Real actors, real ages, real quality.
> 
> Tags are important, let me know if I missed any!
> 
> Make my day on tumblr!
> 
> Comments are my coffee :,)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I officially have the rest of this fully outlined, here come the chapters!

Finding the materials he needed to build his suit turned out to be easier than he had thought. Dick had handed him a credit card when he had first mentioned needing to buy some new and better fitting clothes. It was a gold card and no doubt loaded with millions, naturally, Jason hadn’t asked where it had come from. The money was graciously his to spend, as assured to him by Dick, and that was really all that mattered to him. If Dick was for some reason dealing drugs in his freetime (which he highly doubted and therefore wasn’t really worried) than so be it, as long as it wasn’t to children of course. 

 

The hard part came when he had to assemble it. 

 

Jason didn’t really have much a hand at sewing. He should have, with how often his clothes were either torn or too large for him as a child, but he had just learned to live with the itch of the extra fabric. There was something else though, something that told him he should have been good at this, or at least better, and he didn’t think it was because he had had a part time job in a tailor shop during his past life. 

 

He remembered, vaguely, an older man’s delicate hands guiding his own as the stitched torn and stained red and green fabric back together. How they had moved with grace and delicacy that could only be achieved through years and years of practice. That, and the gift of the internet and tutorial videos, were probably to thank for his (actually pretty okay looking) suit. It was simple, some black cargo pants he had lined with steel plates and thin foam, some steel toed combat boots, gun holsters, and a black shirt. 

 

The red helmet…. Was much more difficult. He hadn’t the faintest idea how he was to go about making it. Did he make a mold and set melted plastic into it? It was a step, but the fact that it was sure to take longer than he wanted steered him away. He had honestly come to considering tying a red t-shirt around his face when he saw the perfect thing.

 

He had been walking down to the corner store to purchase some more mill, because Dick had been drinking all theirs with his cereal addiction, when he had seen it in a small shop window. It was a bike helmet he believed, red and metallic except for the blacked out visor that shield the eyes. It was  _ beautiful. _

 

He purchased the bike helmet in cash, as he had his hand guns, so that the exchange would potentially be untraceable. 

 

He had forgotten the milk that trip.

 

Two nights later, and not even two weeks post his return, he could be found sneaking out his bedroom window and scaling the fireplace to the roof of Dick’s apartment building. From there, he would have a different perspective and a much better advantage when it came to building his map and planning his route of attack. To the left, was the more family centered area of Gotham. A place filled with duplexes and well groomed parked for the better off in Gothams outer ring. To his right, was the Narrows and, straight ahead, downtown Gotham. If he squinted hard enough he could make out the shining lights of Wayne Enterprises. 

 

He sucked in a breath of chilling winter air and turned right. 

 

It was just how he had remembered it. The houses were just another wind blow from falling apart, beer bottles and crumpled drive through bags littered the streets. Some houses had dark windows and were silent, they had been abandoned. Others were dimly lit, small families sitting around shabby dining room tables or on second hand couches, some held laughter, others produced screams. Jason remembered his days there, even with the effects of the pit. Funny that.

 

It was because of those ‘lucky’ memories that he was able to guide himself down the Narrow’s streets, purely by muscle memory. He passed the old basket ball court, the house that used to lend him books, and a tiny and ancient diner, until finally, he came to the small trailer. It was a fading yellow and, besides the vines that were now even more overgrown, the place hadn’t changed a bit.

It was still crooked on its foundation like it had been since he was seven. There was still the duct taped hole in the front window from where he had thrown a ball. He still remembers being yelled at for that.

 

The door is busted and pushed open easily as he enters. The carpet is torn and the couch is pushed over, there isn’t any graffiti, buts it's definitely housed squatters once or twice. At least now, as far as he can tell anyway, there isn’t anyone there.

 

It doesn’t take three steps for the putrid smell of alcohol to hit his nose and suddenly, all too suddenly in his opinion, he’s back in the past. 

 

_ He’s ten, maybe eleven as he smashes himself further into the wall. It’s the middle of the night, or early morning depending on how you look at it. He balls his too long shirt sleeves it his fists, his toes curling into the rough carpet as he hides. He had wanted a glass of water, and had nearly made it to the kitchen when the yelling picked up. It was his mom, no doubt about it, probably coming home from a late night. If the alcohol wafting off of her was anything to go by.  _

 

_ Who she was screaming at, Jason couldn’t tell. Well, not specifically anyway. He knew that the other person was male, he could hear their deeper retorts and grunts. He kept to the wall, he knew he wasn’t supposed be there, and wondered whether his mother even remembered Jason was at home. Sometimes, when she hit an absolute low, she would forget him and be surprised when he showed up to help her off the bathroom floor. They were yelling about respect and space and ‘taking a break’ and Jason wondered when his mother had gotten a boyfriend for a long enough time where they could even consider taking a break. And, furthermore, why hadn’t she introduced them? _

 

_ He realised the yelling had stopped suddenly, and took the chance of peaking around the corner to get a look at the scene. The man was gone, the front door was still open, and his mother was passed out on the couch. Jason sighed, coming into the living room to close and lock the door. He shut the blinds and grabbed the blanket they tended to keep on the back of the couch, draping it over her. He returned to his bed, forgetting about his glass of water.  _

 

Jason blinked, clearing his eyes from the sudden blur. It was stupid, he had already lived this, it shouldn’t make him emotional anymore. Perhaps it wasn’t the memory, maybe it was the old walls and memorable fabric of the couch that was making his chest tighten in the unwanted manner. He did his best to ignore it, instead digging further, looking into the kitchen and at his old bedroom. Most of the furniture was either gone or destroyed, picked up by other less fortunates after the house had been abandoned. He thought about how this was his childhood, and even in all its wrecked glory, it was now gone. His sadness turned into anger, his fists clenching at his sides and his blood boiled. 

 

Why had it been him? What had could have possibly been done when he hadn’t even been born yet? He wanted to cause pain, to  _ kill _ , to show whoever decided his father was going to leave and his mother was going to become addicted that no one could mess with Jason Todd and get away with it but… there was no one to hit. No one to punch until they told him why they did it. Sometimes, the bad things simply happen, and sometimes there’s nothing you can do.

 

Sobbing now, and shoving his helmet back onto his head, Jason turned on his heel and marched back into the street. 

 

Crime alley was the same as it had been. Dark, dingy, pulsing an essence that shouted DANGER. It felt like home. The bricks were cracked and lone fire escape dangled on broken hinges, left forgotten, useless, broken. It had been used of course, probably for access to the abandoned apartments that it led to. It had been used like the shells littering the ground had been used. The cigarette butts. 

 

Jason had stopped crying now, tears and snot drying underneath his helmet. He felt very tired now, exhausted and parched from the onslaught of tears. He leaned back until he could feel the cool brick, letting his knees buckle and slowly sliding to the ground. 

 

He let himself sit for a moment, head tilted back and eyes closed. It was probably stupid, a naive decision as he sat so relaxed in probably the most dangerous place in Gotham. He found it hard to care, his hands curling angrily against the cement. He was tense all the time, why was coming back so hard? He had just defeated death, he should be happy- What was that? 

 

Small, and cold, must be a metal of some sort. What now lay grasped between his fingers wasn’t a bullet, it was different, not as smooth, and with a small hole in the center. He brought it in front of him for examination. It was metal, he had been right about that, and upon further inspection, it turned out to be… a lug nut? The street was too far away for it to have rolled to where he now sat, but, who would so stupid as to park their care in Crime Alley?

 

_ It was cold, and Jason doesn’t think he’s ever been so hungry in his life. It wasn’t like when his mother didn’t feed him when he was younger or like when their fridge would be void of food. It was the, ‘I haven't had food in days and am going to pass out’ kind of hungry. He needed food, like, yesterday. The only problem, one that kept recurring, was that to get food, you first needed to get money.  _

 

_ Jason didn’t have money. Therefore, Jason didn’t have food. _

 

_ He had tried to snag an apple from the corner store the day before, but he had been caught. After that it had only been sheer will and his persistent begging that convinced the owner to let him run free of charge. That’s what brought him here. Sitting in crime alley a tire iron (one that he had found in a junkyard) in hand as he set to work. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He, Jason Todd, was stealing the tires off of the  _ Batmobile. _ It was ironic, that he would steal from the guy that fights crime, but the hunger pains were starting to overrule his morals, and he didn't even think he knew a number for how much the right buyer would pay for these. _

  
_ He had was on the last tire, and the  _ last lug nut _ , when someone cleared their throat. There was a silhouette at the entry of the alley, not a few feet away from him. Jason gulped, the sound of metal on skin reaching his ears as he struck with the tire iron. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, 
> 
> Go support Red Hood Fan Series, for more Batbros, on You Tube: Real actors, real ages, real quality.
> 
> Tags are important, let me know if I missed any!
> 
> Make my day on tumblr!
> 
> Comments are my coffee :,)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing Harley Quinn, excuse my error if she's OOC. 
> 
> Also, I will be visiting siblings and family for the long weekend so this might be my last post until Monday or Tuesday. Sorry about that, hope everyone has a good Memorial day! And if you don't live in the U.S., then just have a one of a kind weekend :)

The next night met the same fate and, once again, Jason was shimmying up Dick’s fire escape. The previous evenings activities had left him exhausted, and oh so confused. By the time he had got home there had been a total of five whiplash moments that night. The other three, as… interesting as they were, didn’t even touch the absurdity of the other two. The fact that he had been back to his old ‘home’, stepped foot in and looked around the place, still sent chills down his spine. But… why had he seen Batman?

 

That vision had been different than most of the others he had, had. It hadn’t brought a sudden sumnami of memories related to the moment, if anything, it had only confused him more. He really should remember that night, he knew that much, he knew whatever had happened in that alley had been really important. He could feel it, a small hum in the back of his head, like his brain was literally  _ buzzing _ with the effort it was taking to attempt to resurface the memory.

 

_ What good that buzzing was doing.  _

 

He hadn’t slept well when he had returned, no matter how sluggish the trip had made him, those two moments had taken any hope of sleeping he may have had. Dick had been suspicious in the morning, since Jason had inevitably looked like shit from the lack of rest, but hadn’t said anything. Still, Jason knew he had to be careful, if he got too bad he had no doubt Dick  _ would  _ speak up.

 

The last twenty-four hours had led him here. Back on the roof of his brothers apartment building, looking through the smog into Gotham city. 

 

It had been an idea he had been considering all day. Pondering it over and over and going back and forth until he finally decided heading into the center of the city was a good way to get more clues. He probably would have settled on his decision earlier in the day if it hadn’t been for his complete lack of confidence when it came to his fighting and self defense skills. But in the end, the pros (and his incurable curiosity) had overruled the cons and he found himself on his pre-planned route into the City.

 

The lights were obnoxiously bright, the streets still fairly busy, and the smells, those terrible smells, were just the way Jason remembered them. He breathed in the probably toxic sent and let the breeze hit his face. The roofs were hidden, out of the civilians sight and his own little place of glory. Since he had returned, his time out at night and his times of bliss on the roofs seemed to be the only moments he got any time to just sit and breath. The peace they held-

 

Screaming, grunts, the sounds of punching and the shrill laughter of a woman… of  _ course.  _ It was just Jason's’ luck that he would run into the Big ‘Ol Batman on his first night into the city. 

 

He followed the noises, a task that was near pathetically easy, over three rooftops and down some until he had a good view of the commotion. A girl, dressed in some of the smallest clothing he had ever seen, was giggling maniacally and swinging a giant mallet. She wore bright red lipstick and had blond hair pulled back into long pigtails. One half had red streaks, the other blue. She looked like an idiot.

 

Batman, in all of his dark and depressing glory, was barely visible on the darkly lit roof, not much but a mess of cape and ears throwing punches and excessively grunting. Jason had to stifle a laugh at the sight. 

 

He managed just that, and instead of giggling his way to an ab workout, he joined the fight. If he thought he had been confused before, he was  _ definitely  _ more confused now, not to mention, a little concerned. Because, well, Jason could  _ fight  _ and he could fight pretty well at that. He didn’t even have to think about it, just let his muscles guide his limbs into the movements, a roundhouse kick here, an uppercut there. He felt like a natural, like he had been doing this his whole life- perhaps… no, that was a silly thought. Some childish dream of his getting in the way of his logistical side. 

 

He fixed his eyes back on the fight. He hadn’t even really thought about the sides, but now realised that he had joined Batman, fighting with the Dark Knight against this little girl in her halloween costume.  

 

They were winning too, beating the absolute shit out of her until she was down on the ground, hands and knees, literally  _ begging  _ the two of them to take mercy on her and just lock them up already. 

 

Jason smiled, mission accomplished, now he and Bruce could go home to Alfred and grab some hot chocolate and- who the fuck was Alfred? Or Bruce? God, Jason’s head felt like it was going to  _ explode _ , questions bouncing off every available surface of his skull. His thoughts were mingling with those of his past self and can someone  _ please  _ tell him where and when he learned how to fight? 

 

“ I know this one!” The girl exclaimed cheerfully, giggling at Jason and Batman cuffed her. “Didn’t he kill you though?” She asked, suddenly serious.

 

“ Who do you think you are?” Jason snarled, teach gnashing as he restrained himself. There was that urge to kill again.

 

“You don’t remember,Puddin’?” She questioned, sounding genuinely hurt. “Shame, you and I used to have so much fun! The names Harley, Harley Quinn!” She said and, actually, the name  _ did _ sound vaguely familiar to Jason. Though, not in the good way she seemed to be suggesting.

 

“ What do you know?” Jason suddenly asked, half aware of Batman lingering in the background, watching with peaked interest. Even so, this girl seemed to know him, really know him, and perhaps she would be the key to unlocking the secrets of his past. Maybe she was what he had been looking for. 

 

“ Oh, I know so many things! Like how little birdies are  _ way  _ too noisy and that Arkham is just  _ terrible _ . Or, how I love the sound by bat on peoples bones makes, but also how dear Batsy gets all feisty when I make people scream.” Harley pauses for a moment, tilting her head and faking thought. “Oh, and I also know how you died.” She says, like an afterthought. Suddenly Jason’s choking on his own saliva, mouth slightly open in pure shock.

 

“ Tell me.” He growls, coming forward in an obvious intimidation tactic. Harley doesn’t shift. 

 

“ Well Puddin’, where’s the fun in that? I can’t just tell you.” Her face changed again, grin snapping into a straight line. “Although,” she reasoned, “Since ya’ don’t remember and all, and that’s a pity, I guess I could send you on your way.” Jason stepped closer again, this time out of interest. The faint sound of police sirens grew louder. 

 

“ Ya’ see, there’s little hill. It’s a trip, ‘bout five miles Northeast, but oh-so worth the sight! It’s on a little hill, you’ll know it when you see it, Sugar!” Harley called, being tugged back by police. Jason didn’t see them, instead turning Northeast and leaping into the night. 

 

And missing the way that Batman flinched in the background

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, 
> 
> Go support Red Hood Fan Series, for more Batbros, on You Tube: Real actors, real ages, real quality.
> 
> Tags are important, let me know if I missed any!
> 
> Make my day on tumblr!
> 
> Comments are my coffee :,)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew Harley Quinn could be helpful?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I blame finals. 
> 
> The next chapter's gonna be a little wonky.
> 
> But please enjoy this one :)

Jason doesn’t think he’s ever run so fast in his life. The five mile distance that was supposedly between Gotham and the warehouse seemed like nothing with the amount of adrenaline coursing through his veins. His feet hit the pavement hard, his bones numb, his muscles unaware of the strain he is putting on them. Everything about him, every piece of him, agrees reaching his destination was far more important than any typical human limits. Still, even through the excitement, he owed the completion of the first two miles in under eight minutes, to the lazarus remnants remaining in his blood stream. 

 

He had waited far too long to find out what had happened, to know why he didn’t remember when everyone else did. He thinks it’s been months, but for all he knows, it could have been  _ years _ since the night Quinn was talking about. Of course, Jason had met yet  _ another  _ person that new more about himself than even he. 

 

As he pushes harder, Gotham’s high rises begin to fade into the background. Their artificial lights dim as he runs further away, the glow of the night’s stars taking over. He remembers that, from his dreams of the desert. The sky free from light pollution and blanketed in the light of dead stars, many miles away.

 

The road is soon replaced by gravel. Wherever this warehouse, it isn’t within the Gotham limits, at least not for the city. There are some houses scattered few and far between, but the lights are off, the occupants are either sleeping, or there aren’t any at all. 

 

By mile four the grass has become coarse and tall, the land unkempt and seemingly abandoned. The houses are near non existent now, and the few that there are aren’t too far from crumbling. 

 

The air is cooler at night and the wind bites at his face. It doesn’t slow Jason though, instead, it seems to act as fuel. It gives incentive for him to run faster. This is the same air he breathed in that night so many years ago. He is  _ so  _ close to finding out what happened, to  _ knowing _ . He has come so close to stepping out of the dark.

 

There’s a bitter taste in his mouth when he sees it. The building stands tall and looming, its old and he can tell its a warehouse with a history simply just by looking at it. There is wood, metal, it looks  _ normal. _ He steps closer.

 

Tiny specks begin to fall from the sky, floating down onto him as he nears the building.  _ Snow. _ Odd, he thinks, that there would be snow in March. He steps closer. 

 

There’s a laugh echoing from the building, evil and meniachle. It sends chills down his spine. 

 

A face.

 

A crazed smile.

 

The sound of metal on bone and flesh. 

 

He shakes his head, his mind is silly, playing tricks on him in a time like this. He steps closer. 

 

There's a smell in the air now. Its faint, but if it catches the wind right, it gets stronger. Its source must be large. Jason knows it's the smell of blood, its familiar. It's  _ his  _ blood. The smell should have him stiffening, should be make his heart race and scream at him to run in the other direction. It doesn’t. Instead, it's like a magnet, its metallic tang drawing him in.  _ You have already come this far. _ It tells him. _ Come in and play, just come a little closer.  _ He steps closer.

 

The coolness of the door handle on his palm is soothing, calming. It's like an anchor in a storm with only him at the eye. If he holds on, he is safe. As long as he stays here, he cannot be touched. Perhaps he should make this place his new home, rid Dick of his asinine need to fulfil his ‘moral obligations’. The guy never asked for an older brother, Jason shouldn’t make him be one. But, if he stays here, here in this ware-safehouse forever, Dick would soon forget about him. His past would no longer matter, those missing memories wouldn’t matter. They would both be free. 

 

The air inside the warehouse is stifling, and the handle begins to burn in his hand as he steps inside. 

 

The screams get louder. 

 

The smell of blood grows stronger. 

 

He turns and almost believes he is looking into a mirror. He sees himself lying on the floor, sleeping, nestled in blankets the color of a robin. He looks so peaceful, lying on a bed of red how he his. There are footsteps then, someone coming around the corner. A man with fluorescent green hair and a plum colored suit. He’s coming to tuck Jason in, to bid the boy a goodnight before he returns to his own bed with his beloved wife. But the scene changes. Mangled bones and crooked limbs, blood instead of a bed of red. There are no blankets the color of a robin, only torn armor. 

 

Jason does stiffen this time. His heart starts to race. He wants to run in the other direction. But his mind stops him.  _ You have already come this far.  _ It tells him. _ Just come a little closer. _ He steps closer. And the man turns. 

 

A face.

 

A crazed smile.

 

The sound of metal on bone and flesh.

 

Jason freezes, body frozen in place as the man's smile grows impossibly wider. 

 

The scene fades away, the walls of the warehouse tear themselves down. In their place comes the gentle breeze of early spring, it is still cold, but with a creeping warmness. There is no snow. There is no laughter. There is no face, no crazed smile, no sound of metal on bone and flesh. The smell of blood is gone. 

 

There isn’t even a warehouse. 

 

There is instead, piles and heaps of rubble. Splintered and blackened wood, metal melted and bent into odd shapes. 

 

Jason remembers the explosion now. Among other things: 

 

_ There is a Christmas tree glittering in the frame of a window, a fireplace lit with burning wood. Stockings decorate the mantle, presents lay under the tree. There is laughter coming from the kitchen.  _

 

_ The scene changes; he’s trashing in bed, twisting and wrapping himself into the blankets, tangling himself instead of freeing. He’s screaming, shouting, and there are tears running down his cheeks. His bedroom door slams open as the silhouette of a man hurries in. _

 

_ “Shh.” It says. “Its okay, I’m here.” It soothes. Jason stills. _

 

_ The sound of punching and landed kicks echoes throughout the cavern. They are training, growing stronger with each session. A missed punch is not a bad one, but an opportunity to improve. _

 

_ “Tighten your fist.” He is told. “Thumb on the outside so it’s not crushed.” He is taught.  _

 

_ “You must always be on your guard Jason.” The man tells him. “Thats what will save you in a fight. Even if you are hurt or restrained, you will always have your mind.” _

 

_ “And what if I can’t?” Jason’s younger self asks apprehensively. “Will you save me?”  _

 

_ “Always, Jay-lad.” _

 

Jason sifts the ash through his gloved fingers. Bruce shouldn’t have made a promise he knew couldn’t have kept. He should have looked Jason in the eye from the start and told him that shit happens. That life is fucked up and karma’s a bitch. That Dick and Bruce will fight and the younger of the two will leave. That Alfred won’t always be around to cook Jason meals that he never deserved. That Bruce won’t always be there give him Christmas presents, to comfort him after a nightmare. To save him. 

 

But Bruce didn’t. Instead, he promised, and Jason had been expecting him. 

 

But Bruce  _ hadn’t _ shown up. Bruce  _ hadn’t _ been there.

 

And Jason didn’t know how to move on from that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, 
> 
> Go support Red Hood Fan Series, for more Batbros, on You Tube: Real actors, real ages, real quality.
> 
> Tags are important, let me know if I missed any!
> 
> Make my day on tumblr!
> 
> Comments are my coffee :,)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Life's a rollercoaster.

His alarm goes off at the same time every morning, everyday of the week, rain or shine. His helmet sits beyond a closed door, which is seemingly a closet from an outsiders point of view. It's actually a hidden entry to a secret bunker that he had installed in his apartment before he had even finished moving in. Along its walls were lines of bullets, ammunition, smoke bombs, spare helmets and a decent sized artillery. Sometimes he found himself back in there, simply sitting and staring at his growing collection. It felt beyond good to call something his. 

 

Dick had helped him through all of this, acquiring the apartment and achieving a sense of normality. There was a small library a couple blocks away that he worked at part time, sometimes as the assistant librarian, sometimes as a volunteer teacher for the day care. He liked teaching the kids to read. Taking care of kids was something he remembered doing back when he would have still been considered one himself, he used to help out the overworked parents around him as an escape from his own. His memories were coming back in large waves now, flooding in through dreams or unexpected triggers. 

 

He continued with his new regimens too. At night, he would patrol as soon as the sun set and darkness spread throughout Gotham. He kept his identity a secret, hiding under his helmet. He always wore a mask under it, just in case, there were people in this town he would like to keep his identity from.  

 

He had dinner with Dick every Tuesday and lunch with Roy every Sunday. The three would get together as one group whenever their schedules allowed it, for old times sake. Their movie nights and trips out for pizza are ice cream are some of the only times Jason forgets all about his death, like it never happened and things can still be normal. 

 

Through all of this he starts slipping into a routine, he starts developing a new life for himself. Bruce has kept his distance, knowing when he isn’t wanted (although that might be from some contribution on Dick and Alfred’s part), and is giving Jason a moment to breath. So far a month has gone by and Jason’s starting to think that he can really do this. 

 

Of course, peacefulness must always come to an end. 

 

He’s resting on the couch after getting home early from a slow patrol, Brooklyn Nine-nine plays on the TV. He sipping on one of the beers, the perks of a fake ID (and everyone thinking your dead), when there’s a harsh knock on the door. There a short moment filled with the sound of rustling keys before Roy rushes in, all but  _ falling  _ into Jason’s apartment. 

 

“Dude,” He gasps, struggling to catch his breath. It sounds like he’s been running. “We’ve got a problem.” He sputters. 

 

Jason doesn't know what to think. There are a dozen different severities of the term ‘problem’. Was something wrong with Dick or Alfred? Could Bruce finally at his wits end with waiting for Jason to be ready? (That was going to be never, by the way) he briefly thinks that someone may have found out his identity, maybe a nosy civilian or someone from that drug cartel he’s been trying to bust. 

 

“What?” He asks, leaping off the couch and hurrying to Roy.

 

“There’s been activity in the league.” Roy says. Jason’s heart plummets.  _ The League.  _ He had  thought that he had rid himself of that place a month ago, that he had finally shed the demons of his past and left them behind in the dust. 

 

“What about the League?” He whispers, voice caught somewhere in his throat. 

 

“I’m not entirely sure.” Roy admits. “There was a tip that something was going on there, something bug at their base in Nanda Parbat. Dick knows more about it, he’s on his way but I was closer and I just thought that you should know.” He spits, fast and slurred together like he doesn’t really want Jason to fully understand what he’s saying.

 

“Roy.” Jason starts, speaking carefully and slowly. “Tell me what.” He asks, though he not so sure he wants to. There’s a part of him, a very childish and naive part that believes if he doesn't ask, if he doesn’t get involved, all of this will go away. He doesn't think he’s ready for another nightmare just yet.

 

“Batman’s involved.” Roy finishes. Jason’s brow furrows. That’s it? He had been expecting something a little more… climactic. 

 

“Batman as in Bruce?” He asks.

 

“Sorry, man.” Roy nods. 

 

“That’s…” Jason starts, “that’s not too bad. Yeah, yeah I can work with that.” His hands are clasped behind his head as he paces the floor. He breathes deeply, keeping his calm as he thinks. He had known that he was going to have to confront Bruce eventually, he had known that for awhile now. He guesses he had just hoped it wouldn’t be this soon. He hoped Dick would get there soon so he wouldn’t have to keep-

 

There was a buzzing in his pocket, a call from Dick himself. He pulls his phone out to answer.

 

“Please be good news.” He says in to the speaker. 

 

“I’m sorry Jay.” Dick apologizes, his voice laced with concern and a little more than a twinge of anger. “I just spoke with B.” He says.

 

“Dick…” Jason sighs, a hand scrubbing over his face. 

 

“I need you and Roy to meet me at the docs immediately,” Dick says, “B won’t be here but… there’s a kid.”

 

“A kid?” Jason deadpans, Roy watches in confusion.   
  


“At the League’s base, a toddler.” Dick adds. “And Jay?” He asks, voice tight with concern and apprehension, like would rather be doing  _ anything  _ else than breaking this news to Jason. “B thinks he’s your son.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Next story of the series will be coming along folks, along with a little toddler (you probably already know who)... someone. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking around :)


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